May and The Importance of Autistic Representation
The first time I saw May was at a sleepover. Surrounded by preteen girls all crowding around my friend’s small CRT TV, I was captivated. While the others dispersed after becoming bored and uncomfortable with some of the later events in the film, I edged closer, hoping to absorb as much as possible.
May was so much like me—I’d never related to any character in a movie before and here was someone who fit so many of my traits! I couldn’t help but admire her. She had a lazy eye, wearing a medical eye patch as a child to correct it, the other kids bullying her and calling her a pirate. I had almost this exact experience—the eyepatch, the bullying—I’d never seen that portrayed in film before. (Also, my middle name is May. I mean come on.) After the film, I became emotional and overwhelmed. I didn’t understand why but over 15 years later I can reflect on this experience and the film in general.
While I didn’t receive my autism diagnosis until my late 20s, I always knew I was an outsider and different from my peers (I would come to learn this was also because I am very queer). Last year I remembered May and realized that I could relate to her more than ever because she comes off as extremely autistic-coded. Whether this was the intended direction or not, having someone outside of the media stereotype of autism (think Sheldon from Big Bang Theory) as the titular character etched itself directly onto my soul.
May, reflected in glass with her eyepatch visible, looks at Suzy the doll
The film begins with an introduction to May and her awkward upbringing; the rest following her current daily life. Her mother, both overbearing and controlling, gives May a doll in a glass box named Suzy. While her idea of “if you can’t find a friend, make one” has good intentions for May but it doesn’t quite turn out positively. I see it as a goal she cannot reach and a reminder of her imperfections. Suzy becomes May’s only real friend, and she talks to the doll regularly. She cautions May to never take Suzy out of the box or she will be “ruined.”
When May becomes an adult, she moves away from home and works as a vet assistant. She spends her free time sewing, surrounded by her huge collection of dolls, including Suzy. Collecting is another thing we have in common—I’m extremely attached to my shelves of plush toys. Receiving Suzy as a child clearly sparked something in the young May and has continued to her mid-20s. While collecting figures and games is fairly mainstream these days, it’s not uncommon for the hobbies/special interests of neurodivergent people to come across as childish to others. Dolls, toys, trains, etc. Infantilization is an unfortunately common attitude, which could be why she doesn’t mention her dolls to anyone. Collecting as an adult often involves buying/selling and not just enjoying things for what they are. (If it’s not monetized, what’s the point?)
May sits in her apartment surrounded by sewing supplies and dolls.
May also wiggles and dances when happy, a possible form of stimming. She only does this when alone or in the safety of her apartment. Outward signs of being “different” are honed in on it public spaces and can be taken the wrong way. Interactions between autistic individuals and police are historically bad.
Her attempts to connect with coworkers and people her age are awkward and forced. An innocent smile at a man on a bench leads to him leaving hastily after he sees her lazy eye. May comes to understand she’s weird and tries to find fellow weirdos to befriend, but she’s even too much for them. “I love gross,” Adam, a man she admires for his hands, tells her. “Disgust me.” when she tells him about a botched surgery from her clinic with amusement, he clearly got more than he expected. Being “too much” is a thought many deal with, myself included. We push down our personalities to be more digestible to neurotypical folks. Putting ourselves in a box we don’t fit in. Like Suzy. The term for this act of learning and mimicking social behavior is called masking and can be a genuine survival technique for some. It’s also exhausting—a few hours of running errands leaves me completely drained.
Another interesting aspect is May’s job, as preferring to interact with animals rather than people isn’t an uncommon desire, after all—a cat doesn’t have the same social expectations as a person. The only way I can disappoint my cat is if I don’t feed her the second she wants food. Another huge aspect is that avoiding eye contact can be seen as a sign of rudeness or shyness, which is a non-issue with animals (and even some you should avoid eye contact with). That’s not to say everyone is like this, of course.
While it’s a bit of a fumble at first, May begins to connect with her flirtatious coworker Polly and the previously mentioned mechanic named Adam. While Adam is open to May at first and, in fact, is a huge horror fan (with Giallo posters and Johnny the Homicidal Maniac-esque decorations in his room) there’s still a barrier between them. When he shows May his student film about sexual cannibalism, she takes this as a hint and bites him while kissing. He gets upset and leaves. She assumes the actions in the film are Adam’s desires. The disconnect between what is shown and what is said can be difficult for those who need clear, blunt explanations. Idioms and figures of speech are common in all languages but difficult to parse when you take things literally.
This begins a series of frustrations for May, who starts to see people only by their “best features”. Adam for his hands, Polly for her neck. She assembles a new, perfect friend, combining all of these with the coup de grâce of cutting her own eye out. The doll moves to comfort May as she lies on the floor, presumably bleeding out and hallucinating.
The sadness and desperation of May to fit in follow me to this day. It took me many, many years to understand myself and having even one character to relate to helped immensely. I’m not alone in how I feel, in how I see and interact with the world. That’s what I take away from this film and it will always be precious to me.
